


Ohio Bicycle

by LivTC



Series: California Son [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Humanstuck, M/M, NSFW, Porn With Plot, Sequel, its what we do, look in this here house we just like emotional turmoil over bad decisions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-06-25 21:01:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15648864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LivTC/pseuds/LivTC
Summary: Dave makes it back out to Ohio for Thanksgiving, searching for forgiveness from old friends, family he's not spoken to, and a man he doesn't know how to catagorize.Loosely based on Obvious Bicycle by Vampire Weekend, though I wouldn't call this a songfic.





	Ohio Bicycle

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is a sequel to California Son, so make sure you've checked that out first!
> 
> If you already have, welcome back! I hope you enjoy!

You aren't super sure what you're doing here. You've only been on a plane a handful of times, and never without some sort of accompaniment to guide you through the process, but there’s a first time for everything, you suppose, you just wish this wasn’t it. You squeeze the backpack strap on your left shoulder and fumble for your phone.

sis how the fuck do you know where to get your bag

There should be monitors around listing that information.

okay cool fuckin where

Have you boarded the tram yet?

yeah i went back through security and everything

Then the screens are around, Dave.

You whine aloud. You need some fucking coordinates, down to the centimeter, or whatever the fuck it is coordinates measure. You shove your phone back into your pocket, huffing as you do so, and keep putting one foot in front of the other, following the crowd, hoping they're wandering towards the luggage carousel your bag will be at. You find a bald head you recognize from the plane (the dude had been a few rows in front of you and sneezing nonstop, like he was being paid by the fluid micro-ounce of mucus) and tail him until you're at carousel K.

Right on time, you feel your phone buzz.

Despite you being undeserving of it, I am putting my faith in you and assuming that you've made it to the right place.

well then call me a god cause you were right to have faith

I would like to further emphasize that you were undeserving.

We're just a moment away.

cool ill keep you updated

You close out of your messages and open up Instagram. You’re not a frequent poster by any means, but you still get notifications at all hours thanks to random people stalking through your profile or tagging you in their shit. Though nowhere near your brother's status, you’re popular enough to have around a little under a million followers, which by sibling-of-celebrity standards, doesn’t seem to be too much, you think. You scroll through your feed, seeing mostly pictures of Jade and John's most recent party. It was at their house last night, and you’d shown up out of spite. Knowing that you had an early cross-country flight, they hadn’t formally invited you, and if they had, you wouldn’t have gone, because you’re a responsible adult who understands the importance of sleep and sobriety, but, because you weren’t invited, you’d shown up at the front door and gotten an earful from Jade when she found you later in the night.

You notice that while you’re not featured in any of her or John’s pictures, you’ve still been tagged in the background of a few, acting a drunk fool. There’s only one you’re in the foreground of, where some drunk girl in a pink men’s Polo Ralph Laruen shirt is kissing your cheek and you’re throwing your head back in an emotion you can’t even read. Is that annoyance, or were you into it? You can’t tell and you can’t remember.

You’re momentarily grateful that Jade ended up babysitting you, forcing you to drink as many bottles of water as you’d had shitty beers, and giving you a room to crash in for a few hours. If it hadn’t been for her, you may have missed your flight. So, on second thought, maybe, fuck her.

As you hear the carousel alarm begin to wail, signaling the start of bags coming down the line, you lock your phone and keep an eagle eye out for your luggage.

"Um, excuse me," you hear a voice say from your side.

Almost defensively, you keep your eyes on the task at hand, but answer, "Yeah?"

"Aren't you Dave Strider?"

As you realize that just wearing a giant neutral-colored sweater from Jade’s bad collection of thrift store clothes isn’t really a clever disguise, you turn your head just slightly to the girl, enough to see who she is, but not enough so she can tell you’re looking. An eyebrow raises over your sunglasses when you realize that she can’t be older than 16, which is a bit insulting in and of itself. "Who the shit's that?"

She giggles. "Oh, come on, you're totally him, right? You’ve got the sunglasses and everything."

You’d also imagined that the sunglasses would help disguise your face, but you’re always wearing them now, so you readily understand how that backfired. "He some famous guy?" you settle on asking.

"Yeah!" she says, a bit worked up. You notice an uninterested man, likely her father, just a few yards away, watching the belt intently, though still throwing the two of you the occasional glance. "He's an artist."

You snort—like a younger Kardashian living off of Kim's fame, no one ever quite knows how to describe what it is you do, but you make one shitty short film, and suddenly, you're an "artist."

"Sounds super gay, kid."

She scoffs, offended, but you’re not paying attention anymore; your bright red, hard-shelled bag is coming down the way, ready for you to grab and abscond with. You readjust your backpack in preparation. "If he's really famous, he wouldn't come to Ohio."

"He's from Ohio," she says defensively.

This time, your eyes meet hers, one hand pulling your bag from the line. "Then he sure as shit wouldn't come back."

You pull out the handle on your bag and leave before she formulates an answer. As you walk, you text your sister.

got my bag

what door am i headed to anyway

I'm so, so proud of you. It's door 7.

You go that way, tapping briefly back to Instagram. Terezi, you’re surprised to see, has posted a picture of one of her stuffed dragons, a DVD case for 50 First Dates, and a bottle of cherry vodka. She's captioned it 4 CH3RRY GOOD T1M3 W1TH @carcinogeneticist 4ND @twinarmageddons >:]

You scroll past it, almost instinctively upon seeing Karkat's username, before shamefully scrolling back up and double tapping. You haven't done so much as that since you moved away nearly a year ago, but given that you’re here and attempting to rebuild some incredibly ignored bridges, you figure that this is an easy enough first step. You also find yourself briefly scoffing at what you assume to be Gamzee's new handle.

As soon as you step outside, where it’s cold as fuck but not yet snowing, you see a black Toyota Prius and you know it belongs to your sister. Sure enough, barely any time passes before Rose is coming out of the passenger side, wrapped in a matching black parka and smiling sweetly. You’re shocked that you’re shocked to see her. It’s really been a while.

"Welcome back," she says, warmly, once she’s standing in front of you. Her blonde hair is longer now, though not yet touching her shoulders. Her black lips are familiar enough, but her style feels more refined and polished than it used to. Not that she’s ever looked unkempt in her entire life, there’s just something that feels more mature about her.

Regardless, the smile she’s giving you fills you with a guilt you haven’t felt in months. You’ve done nothing to earn her niceness, and yet, here she is, giving it to you anyway. It’s evil of her, really, is what it is.

"Did Maryam drive?" you return, just in time for Kanaya to open her own door and step out.

"Hello, Dave," she responds, a little harsher than expected, as she makes her way over, too. You suppose this minor hostility isn’t undeserved.

You feel awkward. With the three of you standing there, Kanaya's pale hand protectively on Rose's waist, you’re suddenly not sure how welcome you are, and you’re extra unsure of whether or not you’re supposed to do the whole hug thing. You shiver in the wind.

"May I take your bag?" Kanaya asks, not friendly, but at least breaking the silence. She reaches out and gives you little choice before walking the suitcase back to the trunk. She doesn't bother trying to get your backpack from your grip.

You take an awkward little step closer to your twin. "So, uh, you guys are still together?" you ask, like the big idiot you are. Of course they’re still together—they’re the prime example of a functioning adult relationship, and they have been since before they were even considered adults. You’re not even sure what made you to ask; it’s not like you don’t want them to be together.

Rose's smile turns patronizing. "Oh, Dave, how easy you make it to be painfully aware of your absence."

"We are engaged," Kanaya calls. She slams the trunk closed. Yeah, you remember someone telling you about that at some point, you think. Maybe Bro had tried to update you—you tend to zone him out on the few occasions in which he tries to speak to you.

"Oh, cool," you say, pressing your lips tightly together as you thank California for getting you in the habit of always wearing sunglasses, even if it’s made wearing them a shitty disguise.

"We should go," Kanaya instructs, going around the far side of the car to get back in through her door. With a nod towards the back seat, Rose gets in the passenger side. You get in behind her. Kanaya cranks the heat.

You have very little leg room in the back of the hybrid, but at this point, it’s not like you’re going to ask Rose to move up (you’re also sure, with her being Rose, that she knows precisely how uncomfortable you are). You keep your backpack close to your side and spend the first ten minutes of the ride in silence. You don’t allow yourself to get out your phone for entertainment, either; you’re sure that’ll read as rude. Instead, you settle for looking out the window, and realize, almost relieved, that you don't miss the boring fucking landscape that is Ohio; you pass an empty cornfield, then sheep, a dying cornfield, horses in horse coats, a barn, an empty cornfield, another empty cornfield, a suburb, and so on.

"I suppose I should be polite and ask how Dirk is," Rose finally says, and it’s not lost on you that she doesn’t actually ask.

Your eyes meet in the rear-view mirror. You shrug. "I dunno. He's fine, I guess. Still making that weird fucking puppet porn, so that's..." you trail off. "Oh, actually," you say, turning and unzipping the biggest pocket on your bag, only realizing this far in that this could be a horrible idea, "got you a shitty birthday present."

You produce a bright pink Smuppet and hand it up to the front seat. You notice, relieved, that Rose laughs a bit to herself. "I had hoped that you wouldn't bring this, and yet, I'm delighted by its presence."

"I promise he hasn't used it for any weird shit," you say as she takes it from you. "Think of it as a rescue."

"Why does he still run that site, anyway?" Rose asks, twisting in her seat and putting the Smuppet onto her lap, like it’s a perversely formed cat. "Surely he's not hurting for the income anymore."

You shrug again, moving your fingers against one another, fidgeting. "I think it gets his rocks off that people don't know it's his."

Rose muses, "I suppose it’s his only remaining form of anonymity, isn’t it?"

"Everyone needs a hobby," you add. "Sometimes that hobby is puppet fucking."

"It was that or crocheting," Rose smirks.

She’s still sitting sideways and looking for you, and for as much as you appreciate her attempts to make sure you feel welcome, the constant scowl coming from the driver’s side, which you catch momentarily, does nothing to make you relax.

"So, um," you cough in reaction to the negative attention, "Kanaya, how's work?"

"Work is fine."

You nod. "That's cool."

"Yes."

Rose tells you, "The lipstick line is going very well. We moved into a small house with a spare bedroom to use as work space. That'll be your room, by the way, so apologies in advance for the clutter."

You’re surprised. "You bought a house together?"

"Nearly a year ago, Dave," Kanaya informs you. You see her rolling her eyes.

“And a cat,” Rose adds.

"Ah," you say. "That's... cool."

It actually is cool, you think. Again, you’ve always felt really warmly towards Kanaya and Rose as a couple, and even though your sister’s fiancée is making you fifty shades of anxious, you’re not stupid or self-involved enough to miss that it’s because you’ve been such a shitty brother.

"Well," Rose says, a bit defensive on your behalf, which she definitely shouldn’t be, "almost nine months."

"I would count three-quarters of a year as nearly a year," Kanaya says flatly.

"We haven't exactly been telegraphing it," Rose frowns.

"No, she's right," you say, really not wanting to witness a couple fight, and, moreover, knowing that Kanaya being frustrated with you is deserved. "I didn't stay in touch."

"No, you did not," Kanaya agrees, earning a deeper frown from your sister, regardless of the truth. "Speaking of, have you messaged Karkat?"

"... No."

Kanaya makes a sound of clear disapproval.

Rose looks back at you again. "You should do that."

You groan audibly, throwing your head back and looking out the window; you’re in another suburb. You really, really don’t want to. It’s not like you haven’t thought about it, or haven’t attempted it, even. You just don’t know what to say.

Before Kanaya can continue scolding you, Rose follows up with, "What about Terezi?"

"I liked her Instagram photo?"

"Oh, what a social butterfly you are," Kanaya nearly growls.

"We're here," Rose cuts in. She gets out of the car as soon as it stops in the driveway in front of a modest house and shuts the door pretty hard behind her. You’re prepared to crawl out much more slowly, but Kanaya catches you with a sentence before you even open the door.

"You will do best to not disappoint her."

With that, she’s out, helping Rose at the trunk.

You sigh, pull your backpack's strap onto your shoulder, and exit the Prius. Rose hands you your bag and pushes past you, up to the front door, where she fumbles for a second with the keys. Kanaya stays back with you, arms crossed and eyes narrowed.

You put your hand on the back of your neck, scratching it a bit. "So we're not cool?"

"No, we are not," she says.

"Are you two coming?" Rose yells over her shoulder, door now open.

"Yes, dear," Kanaya answers, bumping your shoulder as she walks by.

…

"This is the makeshift guest room," Rose says in the doorway, gesturing to the general cramped space and then to what must qualify as the bed. "You may recognize this futon as Dirk's old futon. I don't imagine either of you miss it that much, but it's the best we've got."

There’s a harsh edge to her words that wasn’t there before, but you ignore it as best you can and throw your backpack onto it. After looking around a bit, at storage towers and three tables covered in pigments and molds and what you assume to be other various lipstick-making tools, you do the same with your suitcase, but more gently, as there isn't much available space.

"We know it's not much," Kanaya says, "and as such, we wouldn't be offended if you decided to stay in a hotel, instead."

You catch a quick glimpse of Rose elbowing her fiancée when you turn back to face them. "No, this is good. S'long as I'm not imposing, I mean."

"Well," Kanaya starts, looking around at her small business; production will have to be halted this week, you guess.

"You're not," Rose assures you. "We'll leave you to unpack, but dinner should be ready soon."

"Sweet," you nod.

Kanaya adds before closing the door behind them, "Text Karkat."

You wait until they’re gone to groan and fall onto the part of the futon not already covered in bags. You haven't talked to Karkat very much in the five months since he’d made it out to California. You’re not confident about how to handle the whole "you put your dick in my ass" thing. You’ve thought a lot about reaching out (a lot more than you ever want to admit), but that only makes it more awkward. It wasn't like you'd decided to settle down together, or fuck each other exclusively, or even whether to continue or end your friendship. Really, the amount of talking you've done about it with him is precisely 0. In fact, the amount of talking you’ve done about it with anyone else is precisely 0. It’s almost like it didn't happened.

But it definitely did. It’s not like Karkat hasn't tried to bring it up.

sup

Eloquent as always.

OH, WOW, HERE YOU ARE, GRACING ME GRACIOUSLY WITH YOUR ATTENTION.

im in town now

IS THIS THE PART WHERE I'M SUPPOSED TO TELL YOU THAT I DIDN'T INVITE YOU HERE AND THAT I DON'T WANT YOU HERE?

ice cold man

got third degree ice burns from that shit

its like i picked up dry ice with my bare hands

but instead of dry ice it was your mad insults and instead of my bare hands it was my heart

my heart bro

AT THE VERY LEAST, THIS IS THE PART WHERE I IGNORE YOU IN FAVOR OF MY OTHER FRIENDS.

you with terezi then?

IT'S SUNDAY, ASSHAT. MOVIE NIGHT.

oh you guys are doing those again? thats cool

hey while youre there could you tell her that her taste in instagram filters is the worst ive ever seen

NO. AND WE DON'T DO THEM ANYMORE, BUT WE WANTED TO BE BUSY WHEN YOU CAME INTO TOWN.

Your whole face reacts to that, but you’re not really sure what the expression is.

well thats not very nice

i know where gamzee lives dude i know where movie night happens

watch me fuckin crash

WE'RE NOT AT GAMZEE'S, MAGGOT BRAINS.

okay so then youre at one of two houses

youre super easy to find dude

DO YOU REALLY WANT TO RISK RUNNING INTO KANKRI? OR LATULA?

You frown and let out your longest groan yet. No, you really don't want to see Kankri. If you’re afraid of Karkat yelling at you, you can't even fathom what the older Vantas would have to say. You don’t want to think about how awkward it would be to see Latula, either.

You’re like, pretty sure Karkat told you at some point that Kankri had moved out, though. You think he might be bluffing, but you’re not brave enough to test it.

fuck fine i wont crash movie night

have fun with your shitty sandler thing

FUCK YOU, 50 FIRST DATES IS A GOOD MOVIE. SANDLER DOESN'T EVEN MAKE ME WANT TO PUNCH ANYTHING WHEN I WATCH IT.

that is a pretty high bar for a happy gilmore movie

EXACTLY. ANYWAY, FUCK OFF.

k but youre not gonna be able to avoid me all week.

I HOPE YOU ENJOY BEING WRONG AS MUCH AS YOU ENJOY IGNORING ME.

You lock your phone. In hindsight, you probably shouldn't have been such a giant dick.

…

Dinner is tense, to say the least. Every time you and Rose find something comfortable to discuss, Kanaya cuts in with a sharp reminder of how you’re a total asshole.

For example:

"So how's the book going?"

"Rather well! The publisher ordered a sequel, which I'll begin working on in earnest at the start of next year."

"Sales and stuff good on the first one, then?"

"Not just that, but the critics have yet to call it a rip-off Harry Potter, which is reassuring."

"This is old news, of course," Kanaya breaks in, "that you'd know about already if you'd give us even a sporadic call."

Or:

"I've seen that you've gotten close with Jade Harley."

"Oh, yeah, Jade's pretty cool."

"Is she nice? Smart? Tell me about her."

"I dunno. We get smashed a lot. Sometimes she takes dumb pictures of me."

"Ah, yes," Kanaya interrupts, "I remember seeing one of you grinding up against some girl during the weekend Karkat went to visit you."

“Jade didn’t take that one.”

Or:

"I saw your film."

"Not your style?"

"Quite the opposite, actually. You're not a detail-oriented man by any means, but I can appreciate the deeper themes you worked in. Once you push past all the bullshit 'irony,' of course."

"I particularly liked," Kanaya says, in between small bites of meatloaf, "your use of the color grey in the subject's room. Really added to the loneliness, I thought."

Or, and this was Dave's favorite, as is was the most concise:

"So how's Mom?"

"Jesus fucking Christ, Dave," Kanaya bursts, "must you be so unapologetically ignorant?"

It’s at this point, rather late into the meal, that Rose finally gets up and absconds with her empty plate. After she rounds the corner into the kitchen, you hear water start up.

You continue poking at what small bit is left of your mashed potatoes, face kept blank only by the annoyance that’s starting to rumble inside of you.

"I won't pretend that I understand why you cut her off," Kanaya says, eyes sharp when you meet them, "because I don't, and I'm beginning to think you don't, either. But you can't spare your mother a phone call, Dave?"

You give an uncaring shrug in response, defensive now. "I mean, to be fair, she did sort of force me across the country. And she calls like every month."

"You are owed no fairness."

You put your fork down and scratch your arm, trying to appear like this conversation isn't getting on your nerves and failing rather miserably. You can normally keep it cool and collected, no issue, but this whole trip is a sore spot. "Look, I get why you're mad at me, and in the grand scheme of things, there's a part of me that knows I should've kept up with Rose—"

"'A part' of you?" Kanaya echoes back, incredulous.

"I don't know what you want me to say."

Kanaya stands up and collects both her and your dirty plates and silverware. "I want you to apologize to her. I want you to tell her if you're going to go back to ignoring her." Once she has it all gathered, she straightens her back again, staring down at you. "No one should be waiting in the wings for you, Dave. Not her, not Terezi, not Karkat. You don't deserve it."

"We get along just fine until you come in," you point out.

"I'm the only one thinking about what will happen when you leave," she says. You watch as she goes into the kitchen.

You’re not sure how to feel; you definitely understand where Kanaya is coming from, and you think you like that Rose has someone so protective, but her anger also makes you want to fight back. The only thing you’re really sure of is that you don’t want to be here tonight.

You pull out your phone and try Terezi.

50 first dates is terrible dude we should watch zoolander

The response is not immediate. You feel your leg start bouncing as you stare at your phone. You can hear a muffled conversation coming from the kitchen.

YOUR3 ST1LL NOT 1NV1T3D >:[

aw come on terezi dont be like that

W3R3 H4V1NG 4 M33T1NG OF TH3 "SPURN3D BY STR1D3R" CLUB SO 1T WOULDNT B3 F1TT1NG FOR YOU TO JO1N

oh please did i do something to gamzee too?

WH4T? NO

FUCK G4MZ33 H3 1SNT 3V3N H3R3

oh

Y34H, OH

DONT COME BY D4V3

4ND MY 1NST4GR4M IS GR34T

fine geez

With a roll of your eyes, you get up from the table and make your way back to the "guestroom," fully intending to stay there all night.

…

Around 8 PM, there’s a knock on your door.

"Dave?" calls your sister's voice.

"Yeah, come in," you respond, laying on your back as you scroll through Facebook. You already knew that Karkat didn't have a fucking profile from searches past, but you’re disappointed to learn that Terezi only uses hers for reposting memes. Rose and Kanaya both have separate pages for their respective businesses, but again, nothing that’ll substantially fill you in on the year you missed.

You lock your phone as Rose opens the door.

"I'm sorry about dinner," she says as she enters. She’s got a little black cat in her arms, who you’ve only seen briefly, hiding in corners and watching from afar. It seems more comfortable in her arms.

You sit up and make space for her on the futon as she shuts the door behind her. "Nah, it's cool."

She comes and sits beside you, but leaves ample space. You pick at a scab on your elbow, then focus on readjusting your shades.

“This is Jaspers II, by the way,” she says, and the cat looks up at you, wary. “Mom’s cat had kittens, and she couldn’t bear to part with all of them, so we took this one in.”

“Isn’t Mutini pretty old to be reproducing?” you ask; you swear that cat is ancient, but you know fuckall about feline biology.

“Miracle of nature, I suppose,” she says, petting the cat lazily. It’s calming down with each stroke, and despite being unsure of you, it seems right at home in your sister’s lap.

You ask, “And you named a cat Jaspers again?”

“There are few better names for a black cat,” she muses. “Why, do you think we should call her Midnight?”

“Jaspers II is fine,” you say.

She smiles at you, and the cat meows what you suppose is an agreement. That’s that, you guess.

"Are you enjoying California?" Rose prompts.

"Yeah, it's nice there. Didn't realize that every movie about California ever is pretty spot-on in the weather department. I could count the number of times it's rained on my fingers. Shit's wild." You pause. "Guess that's why we've got that wicked drought, though. Drier than a conservative college."

"And you've made friends?"

"Yeah, I managed to get my shit together and do that," you nod. "One of my neighbors is John Egbert—"

"I saw that," she interrupts, "when I was innocently buying groceries."

You feel your face heat up in spite of you. "The National Enquirer doesn't know shit."

"They must've picked your D-list name out of a hat," Rose teases.

You groan. Shortly after becoming John's friend, you were pulled pretty deep into the rabbit hole of sex, drugs, and alcohol. Sure, you'd hit two out of three in Ohio, but getting fucked up in a basement is a different kind of charm than getting drunk at an exclusive club, getting kicked out of said exclusive club, and having paparazzi follow you around for the rest of the night. As just the little brother of an up-and-coming movie director (/star?), and John as just the third generation of a food empire, you hadn't imagined that the two of you would be targets, but with a slow enough news day and a loud enough shared hatred of Guy Fieri, it's surprisingly easy to end up as a cover story.

"I'm more careful now," you defend. "And more like C-list."

"If you insist," she says. A second passes, then two, then five, before she asks, "I imagine you're being avoided."

"What?" you scoff, mostly sarcastic. "Who'd avoid me? I'm the life of the fucking party, Rose, and I go to enough parties to know that no one avoids the dude drunk-dancing on the coffee table. You look at that guy and you know he's having a better time than anyone else, so you flock to him, hoping some of his glorious good time will rub off on you."

"You'd know better than I would," she says, rolling her eyes. "But the man ruining the nice coffee table was at least let into the party."

You chew your cheek. "They'll come around."

"I don't think you really understand why everyone is upset with you."

"Yeah I do, it’s ‘cause I didn't call and shit."

"There's a striking difference between knowing and understanding."

"So what else is there?" you ask. "I got shipped off to California and never called back. It doesn't have to be that deep."

"Do you really feel that you were shipped off?" she asks instead of explaining further. You momentarily take that as a win.

"Yeah, of course," you respond, matter-of-fact.

Rose's slightly narrowed eyes give off a sense of confusion. Her hand pauses its scratch behind Jaspers II’s ear.

You sigh. "Look, you got to stay here. Maybe you were asked if you wanted to come, but I wasn't—Mom made up her mind that I was gonna go out there. I didn't get a lot of say."

"I'm not sure that's really how it happened."

You roll your eyes. "Yeah, sure, but you weren't really there, though."

"What, there was some secret meeting concerning your whereabouts?" she scoffs.

You’re a bit incredulous when you look back at her. "Yeah, kinda."

She waits for further explanation.

"Mom thought it'd be good for me and Bro. We hadn't really been doing the whole 'getting along' thing, so throwing us across the country was the best way to solve it." You go back to your elbow scab. "Look, it doesn't really matter. We had a lot of fights about it and now we're all pissed at each other. Can we talk about you? Tell me about the proposal."

You’re thankful that she lets it die. "It wasn't a huge thing," she says. "With Kanaya's lipstick line getting bigger, and my writing career becoming steadier, it felt natural to move in and plan our lives out together."

"How'd you ask?"

"Well," she sighs, laughing a bit, "I couldn't decide if I wanted to do the stereotypical fancy dinner with the ring in her champagne, or if I wanted to be more creative and private, but it ended up not mattering." Rose tells you, "She beat me to it and proposed when we were signing papers for the house. She passed me a pen and a ring."

Rose offers her hand (Jaspers II mews in disapproval when she stops petting him to do so), and for the first time, you take notice of the beautiful pink stone. It’s a soft circle set perfectly on a plain gold band.

"Her's is an emerald," Rose says. "We knew the other would be uninterested in traditional and needlessly expensive diamonds."

You hum as you stare. Your sister is doing adult relationship shit like getting married and moving in together and taking in shared pets and you can't even figure out how to get invited to movie night by your old friends.

Your silence gives Rose an opening. "So how was Karkat's time in California? I haven't heard much about it, but it must've made quite the impression on you to get you to fly back for your least favorite of holidays."

"You jealous, sis?" you tease.

She laughs sarcastically, "Oh, ever so."

"I mean, it wasn't that big of a deal,” you tell her after a moment. “Dirk invited him without talking to me about it, he showed up, I ignored him, he called me out, we got into a fight, and eventually I realized that maybe I was being an out of control dick."

"Kanaya let me in on some of that," she admits. "Karkat started showing up here pretty frequently after you left, and they’ve become very close. Closer than they were before, somehow. She doesn't tell me about most of the things he shares, but only the blind could have missed that black eye."

"In my defense, he deserved that," you say, a little absentmindedly as you consider what Rose just said. Kanaya’s hyper-aggression towards you makes more sense now, but you wonder exactly how much Karkat has told her. Knowing you were going to be interrogated upon your arrival, you decided long before this trip to leave out all of the sex stuff from your answers (not that you would’ve shared those details in any universe), but it’s not like you and Vantas talked about who to tell what.

"Perhaps that's best left to be discussed with him," she says, but she gives you a brief reprise and changes the subject. “I was given a warning that you’ve had sunglasses permanently attached to your face through a bizarre and innovative form of plastic surgery, and it seems like that news was more literal than I gave it credit for.”

You shrug. “It’s sunny in California.”

“You’re no longer in California,” she counters. “And it’s nighttime. And you’re indoors.”

“They’ve touched Ben Stiller’s face, so they’re never leaving mine,” you tell her, and it’s true, but there are a lot of reasons you wear your shades that have nothing to do with comedians. First, John gave them to you as a token of friendship pretty early on; second, through Bro, the Strider name quickly became synonymous with sunglasses, and it would be more out of place if you didn’t wear them at this point; third, the press loves your weird fucking eyes, and you’re over it; and lastly, they just do a stellar job of making you look cool.

As an added bonus, it’s much easier to appear aloof and unaffected with half of your face obscured. Normally, this has no drawbacks, but you can see how, when trying to reconnect with family and old friends, that downsides do exist.

Rose is laughing at you. “As style icons go, he may not be the worst, but he’s a large leap from the best.”

“Rose, I can’t believe you’re saying that to me as if I’m not already totally aware.”

She laughs again, and it’s so, so nice. Shit feels so normal right now, but it only lasts a second.

When her laughter dies out, it’s back to questions. "Have you spoken with Karkat? About the black eye or otherwise?”

"Yeah, he basically told me to go fuck myself with one of Sandler's Teen Choice Awards."

"Perhaps consider making a sincere apology and trying again," Rose suggests, before immediately continuing, so as not to allow you time to respond. "Mom is coming tomorrow, so prepare yourself for that, as well."

You shake your head as Rose stands with her cat, making the way to the door. "Guess my funeral's gonna conflict with Thanksgiving. What a shame."

"You're welcome to rejoin us," Rose says, smiling a bit as she closes the door behind her.

It’s only 8:30, but since you vowed to yourself to not leave the room until you’re forced out, you find yourself once again typing away on your phone.

ive got the deal of the century for you vantas

what if

i watch 50 first dates with you without complaining even once and also play you the hanukah song

i still remember it and i know how much you love that shit

its admittedly one of the only good things sandler has ever created and im offering you the chance at some class a nostalgia here

youll also get to know that im silently suffering through the shitty

excuse me did i say shitty

i meant wonderful excellent movie

holy 2hiit dude put down the phone. theyre not iintere2ted.

hey that's a different stupid way of typing than im used to who the fuck are you

the a22hole that bought your hou2e.

You take a moment to just stare at your phone.

full offense intended ive never heard of you

well iive heard all about you, diip2hiit.

yeah im kind of a big deal

lii2ten, oh god among2t u2, kk wa2 two iinve2ted iin hii2 moviie two even notiice hiis phone buzz, or even me takiing iit, 2o maybe lay the fuck off. theyre not iintere2ted.

brb gotta make god amongst u2 my new twitter bio

choke on your own ego, fuckface.

have a fun fucking night with your sandler shit other guy

You decide to call it an early night.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again! I have more of this already written, though I'm considering holding it back until the whole thing is finished, considering I've already been working at this one for a year, and the previous part of this series took two years over six chapters. Mostly, I wanted to put this out to show that I haven't forgotten about this! California Son is a piece I'm far too proud of, and I'm excited to continue.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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